


Refrain

by a_mere_trifle



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-07-15
Updated: 2011-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-10 13:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_mere_trifle/pseuds/a_mere_trifle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Song-meme fic. 10 shorts, of varying moods, pairings, and characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (one)

1\. Alison Krauss-- Restless

_but the one thing I know, is when I turn out the light  
visions of you, dear, dance in the night_

"Okay," he says, "so I've been kind of a tool to you."

"Don't care," says Dave.

"So the whole brother-son-clone shit's been kinda weird for me."

"Don't care."

"And so it's been you who's kinda had to take care of a lot of shit around--"

"I really don't want to do this."

"Yeah, me either. But-- I know. And I'm gonna make it up to you, someday."

"Isn't gonna be any someday."

"...Yeah."

"And I don't give a shit, okay? You're my bro. Do you get that? You're my _Bro_. So stop with this gay-ass crap, okay?"

"...Don't have to tell me twice," he says.

 

2\. Alison Krauss-- Doesn't Have to Be This Way

_you're at your best with an ache in your chest and that worn-out old song that you play_

He doesn't talk much about it. Problems just keep piling up and up in lunatic arabesques and he just leaps from spire to spire, teeth gritted, sword held high. You never would've thought him capable of it. You'd deemed it all bravado, personae, false fronts, and it turns out--

It was John who said it best, wasn't it? It turns out he actually is that cool.

And it's funny, how much he's changed, how much it's turned out he's capable of. It's funny how much more you like this strange dark knight he's become. Serious and capable and with that terse, desperate grace--

You think you'd miss him quite terribly, if you were going to be around to watch him go.

 

3\. Matchbox 20-- Back 2 Good

_and everyone here hides shades of shame  
but looking inside, we're the same, we're the same_

"Family reunion," Dave mutters, drinking his punch. He hasn't been talking at all; he's been glaring at everyone and everything, as much as you can tell with his eyes behind those shades. He's always been weird about the whole ectobiology thing, and you guess you can't really blame him. Jade adores it; you have no idea what Rose is thinking; and you...

It doesn't seem like such a bad thing to you. It's nice, that you're all connected, that you'll never leave each other behind.

"I wouldn't have left you behind in the first goddamn place," said Dave, the one time you brought it up. "I wouldn't have-- it doesn't change anything, it just makes it all-- oh, fuck."

He's given up trying to explain. All you know is it has changed everything, and not the way you think it should.

Jade's laughing in the corner; Rose is watching from the corner, punch in hand; your dad and Rose's mom-- or wait, that's not who they-- okay, that part's been a little weird, but whatever, they're still talking, and you don't know where Dave's Bro--

\--not exactly Dave's Bro-- okay, no wonder he's been a little weird about that, but--

"Don't worry about it, man," says Dave. "No changing it now. Just the way it is."

"Yeah," you say, and take a sip of punch.

From the way it burns at the back of your throat, you're beginning to suspect Rose isn't taking it as well as she lets on, either.

Just the way it is, now.

 

4\. Muse-- Time is Running Out

_I tried to give you up, but I'm addicted_

"There's been studies, you know."

"Yes."

"It's only natural."

"Whatever..."

"We're attracted to people who are similar to ourselves. It's human nature."

"Sure."

"And since we didn't know..."

"The world's ending," he said. "We're all clones. I've held my own fucking dead body and my brother is my father and I-- Rose. I do not give a shit. This is the LAST FUCKING THING I give a shit about. Now, if you care? Sure as fuck know I'M never gonna tell anybody. I'll never bring it up again. Doesn't count if it's in an alternate timeline, yeah? So you don't have to pull all these dumbass excuses because it never. Fucking. Happened."

"...And if... I don't care, either...?"

"Then I guess it's gonna happen again, isn't it?"

"...Probably so."

"So stop telling me why it happened and start telling me what's going to happen next. 'Cause we don't have time for looking back."

 

5\. Coldplay-- Twisted Logic

_hundreds of years in the future, there may be computers  
looking for life on earth_

There doesn't seem to be a sun, in any of these places. The light in your world seems terribly diffuse, Olbers' paradox in action, the whole sky painted white-- the light in his world all seems to come from below, infrared, dancing across the narrow line between light and heat. Red and oven-like--

There's three of him, now, destroying a crowd of imps, and you wonder how he keeps it all straight. He makes it look easy, like he was born to it, and you're starting to wonder if maybe he was. You know this game has deeper roots than it should; you're starting to wonder who's playing whom.

You watch him, knitting the local timeline into scarves, loops within loops and yet somehow it all holds, as long as no one pulls the wrong string. Back and forth and back and forth, knitting your whole future together, and it's so strange, to be the last two people in the world. So strange, to have more than you can even comprehend arrayed against you, stranger forces than you can even imagine hungering for your blood. The whole of Earth gone, and them just an afterthought, just a coincidental casualty of the war you're fighting, not even remotely near the main front--

Back and forth, back and forth. You will stay together, all four of you. You will fight this battle. And you will live to see the end of it.

Even if that means ending yourselves.

 

6\. Sailor Moon, Otome no Policy

_when they're in earnest, everyone is very beautiful, so  
have confidence, and start to clear the hurdles.  
for now, that unknown power sleeps-- someday it will pour forth!_

TG: shit man i would swear to fuck youre enjoying this   
GG: maybe i am a little!  
GG: i mean, sure, a lot of awful things are happening  
GG: but I think a lot of good things are going to come out of it too!  
GG: i mean, look at you!   
TG: what  
TG: what the fuck good has this done for me   
GG: you've done so much for everyone!!  
GG: okay i know you hate the 'bullshit titles'  
GG: but you really have become kind of a knight!!  
GG: its pretty amazing really :D    
TG: what the fuck  
TG: i am so the fuck not  
TG: you dont even know how much of a knight im not   
GG: maybe you cant see it yet  
GG: but i think you will  
GG: and everyone else sure can!!  
GG: like a light in the knight :D   
TG: aw fuck  
TG: sometimes there is just no goddamn talking to you  
TG: are you even awake   
GG: actually i am!   
TG: whatever  
TG: im gonna go kill some imps from hell now and cannibalize the spoils  
TG: see you in a few

 

7\. Gillian Welch-- Everything is Free  
_  
everything I ever done, gonna give it away_

This is the good ending.

This isn't Earth, but it's not really that far off. Sure, everyone's grayer than they used to be, but they're still people, not much more or less fucked up than they used to be. Just as happy, just as sad, and none of them know you. Can't even see you, really-- their eyes just sort of slide past you. Probably a good thing-- they'd stick you in a lab or some bullshit as a mutant freak, otherwise, with your red hair and pink skin and freakish lack of horns, but-- you're pretty fucking alone, and it gets to you, after a while. Just a little.

But it worked. You stopped the cycle; no one else is going to have to go through that round of bullshit ever again. That was the goal, all along; that was what Jade and your parents were working toward for years; and it worked. It all worked.

This is the good ending.

Nobody knows what happened; no one would ever believe it. Even the trolls-- you've checked up on the brainless assholes; they're still living out their lives. They don't remember quite how they became such good friends, but for the most part, they don't worry about it too much. Just roll with it. That's the way to deal with time bullshit.

They shouldn't know, they shouldn't remember, it'd just be weird if they did, but-- god damn it, it's still weird.

You shouldn't be here. You weren't meant to be. You should've disappeared, like everyone else did.

But this is the good ending. That's the only thing that went wrong. And you don't dare go back to try to fix it. There's too much at stake.

Probably you'll die someday. But after all the other things you've lived through, you're just not sure anymore.

 

8\. Fleetwood Mac, Say You Will

_something in you brought out something in me  
that I've never been since_

Okay, so maybe it's kind of stalking. You don't think she's going to mind.

She's sitting at the end of the bar, giggling at the bartender, with some drink that's so goddamn pink it's fucking glowing. She looks good; you guess she's adjusted to life on the mainland. You should've kept in touch, but-- it was all so goddamn weird. And then the bottom of the puppet bubble fell out and there was seven kinds of shit and-- you let it all slide. You were busy and you were kind of fucked up and you slipped away, and you don't know how to make up for it, or even if you can.

But you're gonna try. And if anyone's gonna forgive you, it'll be her.

You step forward, take the stool next to her. "'Sup," you say.

"...Ohmigod, _Dave_?!" she squeals, and tackles you so hard you fall into the football player on the next stool. He glares at you and makes a few half-drunken grunts, but you glare back, and apparently there's something pretty intimidating about you, after Sburb, something that always gets these sort of fuckwits to wisen up and walk away.

"Daaaaaave," she says, and you're not sure she's not more than a little drunk herself. "We were so worried!! I can't see the future anymore, you know. You shouldn't scare us like that!"

"Well, there was kind of this--"

"Oh, tell me tomorrow, tell me tomorrow, listen! Do you hear?"

"Wha--?"

"The song," she says, beaming. "I love this song. Let's go!"

She grabs your hand, pulling you out onto the dancefloor-- and probably this is going to get harder, at some point, when she sobers up and starts asking questions, and sure as fuck when she calls Lalonde down on your ass, but for now-- for now, this is exactly what you came back for.

 

9\. t.A.T.u, Show Me Love

_tell me how you've never felt delicate or innocent  
do you still have doubts that us having faith makes any sense?_

John was guessing that the pile of empty bottles was not a good sign. Okay, Rose always said her mom was an alcoholic, but-- yeah, okay, there was Rose, and maybe she'd just fallen asleep, but John was pretty sure she wouldn't be caught dead hugging a giant pink teddy bear while sober, no matter if she thought she was alone.

Also, there was that whole conversation last night. John knew he could be slow, but he was pretty sure that was one _big_ fucking clue.

He sighed, wondering what to do-- then decided to take her back to her bed, because sleeping sitting up just didn't seem like it could possibly be comfortable. She didn't wake up, which was probably another sign that she had drunk herself to sleep.

"See," he said, "I suck at these things, I really do. I don't know how seriously I should take any of those things you said. Usually I'd ask you, but-- you're probably not going to remember-- or at least that's what you told me, but you also told me not to trust anything you said, and-- augh, my head hurts. I thought it was you who was supposed to get the hangover!"

She didn't answer; he knew that was probably a good thing.

"But it doesn't really matter," he said, resolute, "because even if you don't remember, and even if you didn't mean it, I'm going to prove it isn't true. I like you, and we're not monsters, and there is a point, Rose, really there is. And if you don't know that now, you _are_ going to."

He opened the door to her room and tucked her under the covers, smoothing down her hair as she murmured something in her sleep.

"I like you kind of a lot, actually," he said, heart racing with the terror that somehow, she might hear. But-- it was true. "So be okay. All right, Rose? Be okay."

 

10\. Tori Amos, Enjoy the Silence

_all i've ever wanted-- all i ever needed  
is here, in my arms--_

The glass breaks, and she wishes she could say her heart shattered with it. But-- she still has hope.

"You don't have to pretend," Rose says. "I know you were never consulted. I know you had no choice."

"But I did," she says. "Don't you understand? Of course I had a choice."

"Not in my creation."

"But in every subsequent event. I could have given you away. I chose not to."

"Out of some misguided parental affection--"

"No," she says. "Because I saw something in you, even then."

"Yes, half your stolen paradox DNA--"

"Yes. Myself. I saw myself in you, even then."

"Because I'm a clone of--"

"And then, as you grew up, you became more and more you... and I loved you even more, Rose. Maybe I've been terrible at showing it, but-- you are the most important thing in my life, Rose. You are the one thing I can look back on and say I have never regretted. Never. Not even for a second."

"But--"

"I don't care how it happened; I don't care why," she says. "You are my daughter, and I love you. And it doesn't matter how long it takes, Rose: I _will_ make you believe that."

From the look on her face, it might take a long time. But that's all right. Now that the game's over, she's got all the time in the world.


	2. (two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belatedly, another go-round. No longer makes a lot of sense at the time I am posting it, but for completeness's sake... XD

1\. Rosanne Cash, Seven-Year Ache

_don't bother calling to say you're leaving alone  
'cause there's a fool on every corner when you're trying to get home_

The apartment's empty, which is what any self-respecting teenage boy wants. Especially this late at night. Living the fucking dream, man. A life this cool is just unreal, it doesn't even happen most of the time.

Except you know where he is. And you know what he's doing. Way better than you want to know at all.

And you're getting just a little sick of this bullshit, even if you know he never asked for a kid brother/son. You're getting a little sick of buying the food, doing the cooking, cleaning out the bathroom, calling the landlord.

John's pestering you-- his dad's torturing him with baked goods again-- and you shake your head, wondering how the hell he still doesn't realize, after all this time, just how goddamn lucky he is. He's always been the one who gets all the emotional bullshit. But this one thing, this _one thing_, he's totally blind about.

TG: you know what we still got those magical transporter things and shit  
TG: how bout i come around  
TG: take some of the heat off you   
EB: would you?  
EB: that'd be pretty sweet!   
EB: i can't eat this much cake, I mean damn.  
EB: maybe you can distract him!  
EB: are you sure you don't have anything else you're doing?   
TG: nah man im just chillin  
TG: bring some of my gear along  
TG: wont miss anything   
EB: holy crap, dave, sometimes you are the best friend ever.  
EB: i'll tell him you're coming, so don't back out, ok?   
TG: sure man whatever  
TG: see you in a few

(-)

2\. Coldplay, Green Eyes

-

_cause I came here with a load  
and it seems so much lighter now I met you_

-

He's an idiot, really.

He'll strap on rocket packs just because some chick who wants him dead said it would be a good idea. He'll trust trolls and carapaced aliens and _you_, for fuck's sake, which really just proves he's nuts in itself. You're a lot of things, but trustworthy isn't really one of them.

But he won't go away.

You tried, a couple times, to push him away. He was just so goddamn stupid, you thought. Always with his dumbass jokes and his girly talk about friendship...

But he was always there. Always. And talking to him... always made you feel better, somehow. And not just 'cause of your obvious superiority like usual. Either some of that dumbass optimism rubs off, or... shit, there just aren't many people like that, anymore. There aren't many people who can see the glass half-full even when it's a glass of piss and apple juice, and sometimes you need that pretty fucking badly.

Now is one of those times.

"Sweet!" he says, beaming at his new hammer. "Hell yes. So, let's go kick some _ass_, right guys?!"

"Shit," you say. "Sounds like a plan."

(-)

3\. Dire Straits, Tunnel of Love

-

_in a screaming ring of faces, i seen her standing in the light  
she had a ticket to the races: just like me, she was a victim of the night_

-

Dancefloor like a goddamn carnival and you're the one leading the show. Vest and everything, hands at your turntables, man you're a turntech godhead or some shit right here, though try getting your boss to believe that. Shit gig after shit gig, and you never know where you're gonna be one night to the next, but you always know where you are.

She steps out into one of the spotlight, sparkles from the disco ball flashing on her face: she's not beautiful, but she's cute, in a nerdy way, all long dark hair and round glasses and overbite. She looks up, and she smiles at you, and you don't know why, but you smile back.

You turn away for a few moments and then she's right in front of you. "Can you ditch this scene?" she says. "'Cause you gotta be better than this."

"Sure," you say, and finish out the song. The bartender starts yelling at you on your way out but he can't make a scene, and you weren't getting paid shit for this anyway.

"Come on," she says, and takes your hand. She leads you through the neon glare of whatever the fuck city this is, crappy holes that call themselves bars, crappy bars that call themselves cafes; you wind up drinking coffee with her at one of those annoying college hangouts, all folk-art music and wicker chairs, but you don't even mind; you can't imagine why the fuck you don't mind.

She talks to you like an old friend, and you could almost believe she actually is.

"Anyway," she says, "I just wanted to catch up with you."

She kisses you: "It's just barely allowed," she says. "Once in a while."

"You know, you make no goddamn sense?"

She giggles. "You've mentioned," she says, and pulls you back over. Everything looks bright tonight, it all looks clean and shining; everything fits, all of a sudden, like it never has before. There's always been something wrong with your life. Sometimes you've been able to ignore it. Never for long.

"Come with me," she whispers, and you do.

You wake up, all ready to sneak away quietly, but she's the one who's gone, and you don't know where the fuck you are, what the fuck you're doing. And yeah, that's like any other goddamn morning, but just for a night--

\--it almost made sense, for a second there. Fuck alone knows why, but just for a second, just for a second--

You open your hand; there's a ring tucked inside.

You know, for ten goddamn years you've been searching for something. Maybe you'll have better luck now you finally fucking know what for.

(-)

4\. Matchbox 20, "Disease"

-

_no one's ever turned you over; no one's tried  
to ever let you down..._

-

Okay, yeah, you're broken and you're doomed, but you try not to think about that too hard. Why should you? Usually you can forget about it completely, because there's so much else to think about-- there's your friends, and FLARPing, and musicals (wait what you didn't say that)-- there's good things to think about.

"You're not even ca8a8le of h8," she says, and she's right, really. You've tried, but you're just-- really not good at it, at all, and it comes so easily to everyone else. You don't understand what's wrong with you.

She pushed you down, she broke you, she fucks with your head every time she can; if you can hate anyone, it ought to be her, right?

But-- you can't. You just keep thinking about that lusus of hers, and how lonely this place is, and mainly you're just really fucking confused. Is confusion an emotion? If confusion were an emotion you'd be the best-adjusted troll _ever_.

You're okay at liking things. You like your friends, you like your lusus, you like a lot of things. You think you even love some of them. You've got pity fucking _down_.

But hate...

"i"M sORRY," you whisper, hands over your head. "i dIDN"T mEAN tO lET yOU dOWN,"

It's your fault; you're broken and you're doomed. So she screams, and yells, and punches things, and you close your eyes, and dream of a world where it's okay not to hate anybody, not anyone at all.

(-)

5\. Goo Goo Dolls, "Broadway"

-

_a little bit weaker than you used to be_

-

You think you see him at the end of the bar.

You think that often, actually; but after a second glance, and a third, you think you may actually be right this time. His hair's a little longer than it used to be; his sunglasses haven't changed. He's wearing a t-shirt and a suit-vest and you wonder what he's been doing with his life, these days.

You majored in Psychology and you're halfway through an MBA. They tried to make you forget, but they underestimated you. You have friends in low places, and a tricky, tricky mind.

You wonder if he's forgotten, too. You don't think he's capable of it-- but then again, he has a history of surpassing your every expectation.

He might have forgotten it; you don't enjoy the memory, yourself. Ended worlds and ended lives and what would you have to say to him if he's forgotten, if he remembers? _Hello. I see we're both still alive, defying all logic or expectation. I see we're both still alone. I see I'm still half in love with you... and I see neither of us have any sort of future._

He was a Knight; he might have the strength to defy the very order of things, tilt at all the celestial windmills 'till they come crashing down, brick by brick.

You pay your tab and walk away.

You're not strong enough to play that game again.

(-)

 

6\. Zettai Unmei Mokushiroku

-

_darkness over Sodom,  
darkness ever glowing;  
darkness over yonder,   
darkness neverending--_

-

"It's time," whispers Jade, and you look up. There's a checkerboard-patterned stairway leading up into the sky. There's a blue-and-white star overhead; and there's a multi-limbed dark figure standing on the platform below it, staring down at you. Jack Noir. Spades Slick. You've heard him called an awful lot of names, some you're pretty sure a thirteen-year-old shouldn't hear, but you're best friends with Dave Strider, so that doesn't really matter too much.

Dave Strider. You look over, one more time, just to see if he's okay; his eyes are still hidden, and the cut on his cheek's still bleeding, and his mouth's pressed into a thin, pale line; there's just a hint of orange-creamsicle glow around him, and you wonder if you're ever going to get up the nerve to ask exactly what the hell happened back there. It was different than what happened with everyone else's sprite, you're sure of it, even if you're all glowing just a little... Maybe you'll ask when you're older, or maybe you'll want to forget all this the second you can.

Your eyes drift past him to Rose, who nods, just once, catching your eye; she's pretty good at reading people, especially the four of you, and you trust her when she says he's good to go. There's something cold in her eyes, something just a little bit wild in the way she holds tight to the needles in her hands; but she is Rose, and she can handle anything. You have seen her tame weird tentacled beasts from beyond the mouth of hell and rise above it unscathed; you trust her to the end of the world, which is good, because that's kind of where you are.

You look back over at Jade, too, still with a flash of guilt; you're not sure if you'll ever forget that she died for you, even if it was in a dream. You still remember her dead body in your arms-- but you try really hard not to think about that. She says she's okay, and there's nothing dark in her smile at all, so you've got to believe her-- it's not like you all haven't died, once or twice. It's not like you might not all be about to die again.

But really, you can't believe it. With Jade, who knows everything? With Rose, who sees all? With Dave, who rewinds time like a broken record? As long as they're not all busy trying to save you from doing something stupid, you really can't see how you could fail!

"All right," you say, tightening your grip on the handles of your jetpack; as if they were waiting for you, Rose starts to glow with pink-and-purple fire, Dave's skateboard thing appears in a flash, and Jade hops sidesaddle over her robot broom with a giggle. "Let's win this thing."

As one, you ascend.

(-)

7\. Yoko Kanno, See You Space Cowboy

-

_Crossing over inside your heart, a voice speaks   
"You can erase even unchangeable things"   
Praying before the truth in the morning   
Love will once again return to this place_

-

"It was inevitable," your mother said. "We couldn't fight against it. It had already happened."

And you do understand where she was coming from. It must have seemed inevitable. From their perspective, it was; they had children to think about, after all, and it takes a certain kind of coldness to throw babies into the fire. Not when you're not even sure what's going on, what game is being played, or how to win.

However, you have no children to consider. None who are alive. And you know exactly what you need to do.

John's keeping watch, at the head of the line; you see him tense, and you nod at the row of children behind you, of more species than you've bothered to count. Kanaya is right behind you, as always, with Sollux and Nepeta and Karkat and those other two whose names you have never bothered remembering. Three from each side, naturally. How _odd_ that it always ended so evenly.

You all finished your sessions, in the end; you even won, though some of you took a more roundabout path to get there than others. Even past that first shallow "victory", most of you even managed to get home.

But none of you escaped with your team of friends and relatives intact. And you know for sure there are planets that were never saved at all.

Sburb carried on, in its myriad incarnations. It would always carry on; it was a universal constant.

Somehow, someone expected you all to simply forget that you'd each been flouting universal constants for years. Even without the backing of the game's power-- even without the paradox protecting you-- you've all had time to regain the power you've lost, and more.

Your parents were unwilling to throw you to the fire. You're old enough now to go yourselves.

"It won't bring them back," Kanaya whispers. You know that; you've made it very clear to all involved.

But you say it again, anyway, one more time; "But it will never happen again."

She nods; everyone who hears you does. They've been shaped and changed and violated down to their very DNA; they've been fucked around with in every way imaginable, for the sake of utterly inadequate agendas that no one ever bothered to explain. Their friends are dead; and it is time that there was a reckoning.

"Do you think we'll live through this?" John whispers.

You shrug; it doesn't matter to you, not at all. Not after losing Dave, and Jade, and Jaspers twice over. Not like that.

"I know," he says, "but if we do-- are you going to be okay?"

A little empty, a little aimless; but you'll have time to cope with that if it happens. "Yes," you answer.

"...Okay," John says, and takes a deep breath. "Let's go."

The signal drops; power hisses through the air 'till it's tangible as water; and as one, you throw yourselves, screaming, at the walls of SBurb's metaphysical castle.

An irresistable force against an immovable object; and if you live to see nothing else, you will live to see this destroyed.

For the sake of everyone who won't.

(-)

8\. Leonard Cohen, Democracy

-

_But I'm stubborn as those garbage bags that time cannot decay;  
I'm junk, but I'm still holding up this little wild bouquet--_

-

It's been years since he's seen another living soul. Serenity was enough of a novelty; to see another pawn, alive, in the flesh-- well. He'd lost hope of ever seeing such a sight again, outside of dreams.

And here they are-- three of them, by some miracle, alive and well and not killing each other, despite being black and white. Okay, yes, there'd been a moment there when he was scared, but now they were around a campfire, eating and talking like civilized beings, and maybe they've got a chance, he thinks, his heart singing; maybe they can defy years of arcane history and meaningless destinies. Maybe they can make it _right_ this time, just the three of them. Maybe they can rebuild the world, and do it right this time-- maybe democracy has found its time and place. He doesn't even have to lead. Serenity can lead. PM can lead, even that psychopath AR-- it'd be _democracy_, they'd all have a voice.

Then the world shakes, and for a second he can't see anything, his mind thown back to a checkerboard battlefield, black and white and blue and blood--

\--and he blinks, and swallows, and _blinks_, and it's gone again, except it isn't, because there's another person here, an embarassment of riches, and she looks an awful lot like a queen.

She's got a crown-- and she's giving it to the Peregrine Mendicant. It's starting again, he knows it, and-- he will not be any party to it starting again, but--

It hasn't been long, but he's grown to trust her. He trusts her, and he can't be alone again, and the instincts are so strong.

_Don't let it happen again,_ he thinks, unwrapping the tape that covers the ring he kept for reasons he never could explain. Maybe it was destiny; maybe he was doomed to play a part in this cycle all along. _Don't let it happen again._

He takes out the ring, and all eyes are upon him; he takes a breath, and speaks, truly speaks, for the first time in what feels like forever.

"_Don't let it happen again_," he says, his voice coming out long-broken and rough; and yet strong, despite all that. If it is an endless cycle-- then there will always be another chance. And if he's screwing it up-- maybe someone else won't.

And maybe this will be the last act of democracy in their tiny new world; but each and every one of them nod their grim agreement.

_Never again._

(-)

9\. The Killers, When You Were Young

-

_you sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy to  
save you from your old ways--_

-

"iT"S kIND oF nEAT, aCTUALLY," he says.

You groan. "Oh Jesus Fuck, what the hell a8out living on this godfors8ken meteor is 'neat'?!"

"" he says. ""span class="tavros"&gt;i lIKE tHEM, i gUESS,"

"You should've 8een one, you stupid asshole," you mutter. "You're a useless fucking troll, you would've 8een dead the second the--"

And suddenly, it occurs to you.

"i kNOW," he says. "i'M a sHITTY tROLL, eVEN tHE hUMANS kNOW iT,"

"You're not even ca8able of h8," you whisper, remembering.

"aND iT rEALLY iSN'T jUST mE! gAMZEE'S sO nICE, wHAT wOULD hE hAVE dONE? aND nEPETA? nOW nONE oF uS hAVE tO dIE."

"Plus, there's a whole planet of you freaks."

"eXACTLY,"

"...I'm sorry," you say, even though it burns like bile and fire coming out. "I kept trying to turn you into things you couldn't 8e."

"wELL, yOU kIND oF hAD tO hAVE sOMEONE tO hATE, dIDN'T yOU?" He shrugs. "iT'S oKAY,"

"Jesus, you are the worst troll ever," you mutter.

You've tried to love him, and you've tried to hate him, but those were equally stupid things to do.

Your lusus is gone, the whole of your society is gone, but-- maybe that means you can just let him _be_.

"That might 8e a compliment," you say.

"...tHANKS?"

(-)

10\. The Killers, Read My Mind

-

_The teenage queen, the loaded gun,  
The drop-dead dream, the chosen one;  
A southern drawl and a world unseen,   
A city wall and a trampoline-- _

-

"So..." said John Egbert, only squirming a little on the barstool. "What do you mean, a job?"

"Heh, ain't no better way to get a college student's attention these days, huh." The man in shades smiled, sipping at a glass of-- something; John was bad at alcohol in just about every way imaginable, and he hadn't heard the guy make his order. "'Specially in architecture. The fuck were you thinking, anyway?"

"And computer science," John muttered, defensively. "It's just a minor, and I'm not even good at it--"

"Yeah, but for this job, that's kind of an asset."

John blinked. "How the hell can that be?"

"In this job, you're supposed to make shit that can't really exist."

"...Look... _what_?"

"We want you to be an architect," said the guy in shades. "A _dream_ Architect."

"Wait-- wait, _what_?!" John jumped backward, clambering off the stool. "You mean, like, like Extraction?! That's not even legal!!"

"Technically, it is," said the guy in shades, "but no, not like Extraction at all."

John blinked. "Okay, I am totally lost here..."

"Have you ever wondered where the technology for shared dreaming came from in the first place? It was kind of out of fucking nowhere, yeah?"

"I..." John frowned. "Yeah, I guess... Why?"

"Truth is, it was stolen," said the guy. "It was stolen from someone's archive, when she was looking the other way. It's too late to take it back, but now she wants to try and make the best of it. Get defenses up against it... find ways around it. It's still a specialized field. There's ways to put at least a couple limits on it. Now, before anyone figures out the _real_ rules."

"...That... I guess that'd be okay..." John frowned. "But why me?"

"We think you'd be good at it," said the guy. "Once you got the knack. For instance, learning how to tell you're in a dream, that's gonna be step one."

"How do you know you're in a dream?" said John, suddenly suspicious.

"They all start in the middle, right?" The guy started to smirk. "So tell me, Egbert-- how the fuck did we get here?"

"I..." John swallowed. "Oh, you son of a bitch!"

"Can't argue that one," he murmured, taking a longer pull of his drink. "But you suspected, didn't you?"

John ignored that, glaring around. "Well, how the hell do we wake up?!"

"You've got a choice," said the guy. "Either you can get yourself killed, or you can wait twenty-three seconds."

"Twenty-three seconds?" John blinked. "What happens then?"

"I'm Dave Strider, by the way," the guy said, extending a hand.

John stared at him, then shook it. "Seriously--"

_She said I don't mind if you don't mind, cause I don't shine if you don't shine, put your back on me--_

John jumped, looking around for the source of the music-- he had just a moment to see Dave's grin grow wider before the world _jolted--_

\--and he was gripping the arms of a shitty lawn chair, staring at an industrially-tiled ceiling.

"Oh, you _asshole_," he snapped, fumbling for the needle in his arm.

"Careful, those can be a bitch." Strider grabbed his arm before John could pull out the needle, easily slipping it out and smoothing the tape over.

"I don't know what the hell you think you're doing--"

"Offering you a job," said a woman's voice, amused.

John whirled around; there was a blond girl standing at the counter, test-tube in hand. "Rose Lalonde," she said. "Multitalented. Sole handler of pharmaceutical enhancements."

"But--" John floundered. "Why _me_, anyway?!"

"Because I'm good at people," said another woman, behind him, and John turned around _again_, feeling utterly lost.

A dark-haired girl about his age grinned, adjusting round glasses. "I'm Jade Harley," she said. "This is my team. And I think you'll be great at it!"

"I..." John put a hand to his temple. "Holy _crap_."

"You can sleep on it, if you want," Jade offered. "Here's my card; you'll know where to find us."

"Look, I--"

"Just think about it?" She kept holding out the card, eyes wide and bright.

"...Okay," John said, and took it. "But I'll probably say no! This really shouldn't be legal."

"We're working on that!" Jade beamed. "And we really need your help. So whenever you decide, give us a call, okay?"

"...Right," John said. "Right. I'll, I'll just be--"

John beat a hasty retreat, ignoring the fact that he didn't actually know where he was, and _especially_ ignoring the little voice in his head that said his decision was already made.

-

"So, what did you think?" said Rose.

Dave shrugged. "I saw Karkat running around in there; it's not buried deep. Plus, it's John. He'll remember quick enough."

"Yes!" Jade clapped her hands, giggling. "Then it'll be the four of us, again. That's how it was meant to be, you know. I think we could change the fate of universes, I really do."

Dave and Rose caught each others' eye as they turned away, shaking their heads, almost in unison. Despite their shared derision-- they weren't too far gone to realize that they both believed it too.

"The stars are blazing like rebel diamonds cut out of the sun..." Jade hummed, tidying up the equipment. "Can you read my mind...?"

(-)


End file.
